


The Christmas Spirit

by Zedoktor



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:26:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zedoktor/pseuds/Zedoktor
Summary: Heavy, Engineer, Soldier and Demo go out for drinks to celebrate the season, and really get into the Christmas spirit (but not without getting into trouble first).





	The Christmas Spirit

The bar was usually filled to capacity on Saturday nights. This weekend, however, was a special one, and the application of a truly staggering amount of money had resulted in the bar being almost empty - because four men had decided that they wanted a night out without interference.    
  
RED was understanding about it. The owner of the bar was understanding, due to the aforementioned money. The locals were less than understanding, but they could at least recognize that drinking with a bunch of killers with social problems wasn’t really good for their health. They stayed away. The barman was not so much understanding as terrified, even while being paid a giant bonus, but he was the most athletic among the staff and the general consensus was that he stood the best chance of getting out of danger if the worst happened.    
  
And so it came to pass, that four very unusual men came to drink in the local Teufort watering hole on a cold December night, with no one else in a one mile radius save a rather skittish young man with a talent for mixing drinks.

Engineer sat up at the bar immediately, and set his helmet down with a thump. He waved at the bartender. “Hey fella, gimme whatever whiskey ya got a lot of, and keep it coming,” he said wearily. He shoved his goggles up onto his forehead and rubbed his eyes. “Goddamn, what a couple weeks we’ve had…”    
  
He was nearly knocked off the stool when Heavy slapped him on the back. “Ah, but now we are having break! No more fights until January, da? Is time to celebrate Christmas, like in old country - we get drunk and find women!”    
  
“Ain’t no loose women ‘round these parts, friend,” he replied. “Trust me, I built a machine fer detectin’ them, an’ it got nothin’ within a hundred miles.”    
  
“AS PROUD AMERICAN SOLDIERS, WE DO NOT NEED WOMEN!” Soldier shouted from the pool table, where Demo was swearing and trying to get it to work. “WE SHALL PARTAKE IN GOOD, WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT, AND LEAVE THE SKIRT-CHASING TO THE HIPPIES!”    
  
Engineer groaned, and grabbed the bottle as the bartender poured out a measure. “Better leave it, if ya don’t mind,” he said gloomily. “I may need to break it over that guy’s head later.”    
  
Heavy sat up at the bar too, and stared at the rows of beverages on offer with a critical eye. “What is ‘absinthe’?”    
  
“The kinda stuff that’ll rot yer brain. Just get whiskey, can’t go wrong with that.”    
  
“Hmph. Whiskey is drink for babies. Where is vodka?”    
  
He was timidly informed that the bar did not stock any vodka, but they had a selection of wine and liquors that he may be interested in and please don’t tear off my arms. Heavy put his head in his hands and groaned as well. “No women, no vodka… Fine. Give me strongest drink you have. Maybe    
I forget I am in stupid American bar.”    
  
A glass was placed in front of him, and an identical bottle of whiskey was produced. He held up the glass, toasted with Engineer, then picked up the bottle and drank it all.    
  
The pool table finally cooperated, and Demo racked up the balls triumphantly. “Right, boyo, ah’ll teach ye how we play back in Scotland!” He took aim with his cue, his one eye glaring malevolently at the white,  and sent it crashing through the other balls with such force that the black bounced off the table and went rolling away towards the door.    
  
“Is that supposed to happen?” Soldier asked, as Engineer slipped off his stool and went to retrieve it. Heavy just laughed at him, and at Demo while he cursed under his breath.    
  
“No, is not suppose to happen,” he said, chuckling. “You are to use leetle white ball to knock other leetle balls into pockets. Must pocket all of one kind before other man does. Simple, da?”    
  
Soldier looked dubious, and he eyed the white ball suspiciously. He picked it up, turned it over in his hand, then tapped one of the striped balls with it and watched it roll away and into a pocket. “What kind of stupid commie game is this?”    
  
“Are ye daft? Ye use the bloody stick, ye fookin’ idiot!” Demo shoved one of the cues into his hand, and showed him how to lean over the table and hit one of the balls with the end. “What rock have ye been hidin’ under that ye don’t know this?”    
  
“I DO NOT NEED TO KNOW HOW TO PLAY SOME GODDAMN SPORT IN ORDER TO KICK THE  BLU’S COLLECTIVE ASS!”    
  
Engineer followed the black ball, and as he reached down to pick it up, a large, dusty boot came down on top of it. He looked up into the face of a mean-looking biker in riding leathers, with studs on his jacket and tattoos on his face. A pair of similarly attired men appeared at the door, and closed it behind them.    
  
“You lose something there, shorty?” he said nastily, as Engineer stood and looked him up and down. He had an air of menace around him that would probably be quite intimidating to someone who didn’t routinely break the laws of physics as part of his job.    
  
“Yeah, I did. You mind gettin’ off it so I can give it back to my friend over there?” he said, pointing his thumb at the pool table.    
  
The biker’s lip curled as he spotted Demo. “Well, well, look what we have here, boys - a midget who’s friendly with a nigger.” He poked Engineer roughly in the chest. “I think he can come get his own balls, ain’t that right?”    
  
Heavy looked over curiously, as Demo stiffened and glared at the trio. The barman trembled, and checked to see if the latch was off the back door. Engineer glanced behind him, then turned back and put his hands up amiably.    
  
“Now, now, fellas, we don’t want no trouble here. Just a nice, quiet drink, and a game of pool is all we’re lookin’ for. No reason for anyone to get into a fight, okay? All the drinks are on the house tonight, courtesy of the people we work for. So give us the ball and let’s kick back a while - whaddya say?”    
  
The biker was about to say something equally unfriendly when Soldier stomped up beside Engineer and cut in. “Will you ladies stop talking about your periods and give us the damn ball?! YOU ARE INTERRUPTING A MILITARY EXERCISE HERE, AND WE DO NOT LIKE BEING INTERRUPTED!”    
  
“Goddamnit, Solly, go siddown and let me handle this!” the Texan snapped. “I swear, every time we leave the base, you get into some fight an’ I end up havin’ to drag your sorry ass back to Medic - an’ I ain’t doin’ it this time, alright?” He shook his finger under Soldier’s nose threateningly. “Get back over there or I’ll-”    
  
“Or you’ll do what, toyman? They are interfering with a legitimate operation and if they do not cease and desist IMMEDIATELY, I WILL KICK THEIR ASSES ALL OVER THIS BAR!”    
  
“Are you - “ the biker started.    
  
“I told you NEVER to call me that again! Can you just rein it in a bit before I gotta pick up yer damn teeth off the floor?!”    
  
Soldier shoved him. “THAT WAS JUST FIVE TEETH AND IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE! Do  NOT bring that up again!”    
  
“Hey -” the biker said, before Engineer shoved Soldier back and shouted at him.    
  
“It was more than five, ya damn fool, an’ - ah to hell with this, where’s that goddamn bottle? Looks like I’m gonna have to beat sense into yer thick head!”    
  
They started to scuffle before the bikers’ puzzled stares. Heavy leaned on the bar and watched with interest, where he was joined by a rather annoyed Demo. “What’s a man hafta do to get a game in around here?” he grumbled, and took a gulp of Engineer’s abandoned whiskey. “The fook is this, cat’s piss? Oi, ye got anythin’ better?”    
  
The barman had vanished. Demo sighed and leaned over the bar to snatch a bottle of something dark brown with a pheasant on the label. He poured it into the same glass that already held a measure of whiskey, sloshed it around, and knocked it back with relish. “‘Tisn’t scrumpy, but it’ll do. Think they’ll be a while?”    
  
“Do not care. Is no vodka, no women. This is crappy party.”    
  
Demo shrugged, and waved at the three now-confused bikers. “Hey! C’mon over’n have a drink, laddies. ‘Tis an open bar tonight!”    
  
They approached. The apparent leader kept looking back at Soldier and Engineer wrestling on the ground, then back at Demo’s seemingly friendly face. “Who the hell are you people?” he asked. “Where’s the regular crowd?”    
  
Demo handed him the whiskey. “Elsewhere, on account o’ how we’ve rented out the place. Might as well drink up!”    
  
He did so, while Demo looked on approvingly. “Now, there were somethin’ I wanted to mention to ye… what was it now…” He tapped his chin, apparently trying to think, then punched him square in the face and caught the bottle before it fell to the floor along with its holder. “Ah yeah - don’t be callin’ me a nigger, ye leather-wearin’ pansy!”    
  
The other two goons attacked as their leader was rolling on the ground in pain. One missed with a swing and hit Heavy on the shoulder, who responded by grabbing his neck and slamming his forehead on the bar before returning to his drink.    
  
Engineer finally managed to get the better of Soldier by whacking him on the head with his wrench. He stood up, and retrieved the ball. “Now stay down, ya maniac,” he said, and turned to see Demo enthusiastically taking on two of the bikers in a fistfight, while one was already laid out on the floor. He swore under his breath, and quickly ran over to try to break it up.    
  
“STOP, GODDAMNIT!” he yelled, trying to pull one of them off Demo. The Scot’s blood was up, however, and he took advantage of the distraction to kick the biker in the crotch. He went down hard, leaving only the leader to face off against rather worse odds.    
  
“Thanks, mate!” Demo whooped, and smashed the end of the whiskey bottle off the counter. “Right, ye wee shite -”    
  
A warcry erupted behind them. Engineer caught sight of Soldier in the corner of his eye, and had the presence of mind to hit the deck as his teammate jumped from a chair to a table and launched himself at the scrum.  He sailed over the Texan’s head, crashed into the biker, and landed in a groaning heap at the end of the bar.    
  
The room went quiet, broken only by the sounds of the injured. Demo walked over and nudged one of them with his foot, getting only a brief grunt in response. Soldier appeared to be the most lucid of all of them, and managed to get to his feet with the aid of a nearby barstool. “I will… kick your ass… outta this bar…” he said breathlessly, and threw a wobbly punch at Engineer before falling over again.    
  
“Ya know, just once, I’d like to go out somewhere with you lunatics without gettin’ a bill for property damage at the end of the night,” he said, watching Soldier trying to pull himself up again.    
  
“Have not broken anything yet,” Heavy remarked.    
  
Engineer sighed theatrically. “It’s just a matter o’ time, big guy. Dammit, I wish there were some women around - least then y’all’d be too distracted to get into fights.” He tossed the ball to Demo. “C’mon, let’s play some pool before that dumb Yankee wakes up proper.”    
  
As it happened, Soldier had given himself a concussion, and remained somewhat woozy for the rest of the night. Heavy tossed the trio of mostly-unconscious bikers into the ladies restroom to get them out of the way, and proceeded to sample every single alcoholic beverage in a quest to find one that most resembled vodka. Engineer and Demo spent hours playing pool, with Demo getting more and more frustrated at the number of games he lost to a man with a Phd in physics.    
  
They left just before midnight. Soldier could just about walk unaided, but all three of them had to lend a hand to keep Heavy moving in a straight line. Engineer, as the most sober one, was nominated to drive the battered pickup truck back to the base.    
  
He and Demo shoved their two teammates into the back of the truck. Heavy started to sing something in Russian, hitting the side of the cab in some kind of aberrant rhythm with Soldier sprawled across his legs. Engineer tried to ignore him as they piled into the front and he started the sluggish engine. “I swear, I’m gonna go out alone next time,” he muttered.    
  
“Ach, ‘tweren’t such a bad night,” Demo said. “Besides, have a look at the sky there - isn’t that a bonny sight?”    
  
Engineer looked up. The stars were out, and one particularly bright one was shining in the northern firmament. By an odd coincidence, the road back to Teufort lay in that direction. The metaphor was not lost on him.    
  
“Yeah, you can really feel the Christmas spirit,” he said sarcastically. “Let’s get back before Heavy throws up all over Solly.”    
  
The truck roared off into the night, leaving only the faint echoes of drunken Russian bellowing in its wake.


End file.
